


Next of Kin

by mcicioni



Category: Alarm für Cobra 11
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-02
Updated: 2012-04-02
Packaged: 2017-11-02 22:23:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/373998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcicioni/pseuds/mcicioni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A hospital scene, situated somewhere in Season 26.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Next of Kin

Kruger, Susanne, Hotte and Dieter left after they heard that Semir's been taken off the danger list. Now the corridor is empty. It isn't long, and the late afternoon sun streams in through one big window. Ben is sitting at one end of the padded bench seat, his hands with their skinned knuckles splayed out on his knees, anxiety like a sharp stone in his stomach. Andrea, at the other end, is pretending to read an old magazine; her left hand is resting on her rounded belly – protectiveness, and maybe also warning. Every now and then they exchange silent looks, unable to think of things to say to each other.

Ben plugs himself into his MP3, but after a few seconds pulls the plugs out and goes to stand in front of the window. Outside there are ambulances, people phoning, taxis stopping. A middle-aged woman in a dressing-gown is standing on the pavement, desperately puffing on a cigarette. Ben glances at his watch: Semir's been in the operating theatre for over half an hour. He walks back towards Andrea. She looks tired, her face is drawn, her beautiful red hair has been pulled into an untidy ponytail. Even like this she's attractive, desirable.

"We'll pull through," she says, looking straight at him, and he knows what she means by _we_ , and just nods. The years she and Semir share, the words they spoke standing together in front of a registrar. Their daughter, and the child who will be born in a few months. All this is at the centre of Semir's life, and Ben is somewhere at the margins. Where exactly, he's not sure he wants to establish.

The swinging doors with the writing _To the Operating Theatres – Staff Only_ open, and a nurse approaches them. "I need to double-check the next of kin," she says, pen poised over her clipboard.

"I'm his wife. Andrea Gerkhan." She stands up, showing her two-thirds of a baby. The nurse nods sympathetically as she makes ticks against Andrea's name and mobile phone number. None of Semir's blood relatives have shown up. Ben doesn't know who they are; all he knows is that Semir's estranged from them, and puts up brick walls against any attempts to find out more than that.

"And you're . . .?"

"His partner," Ben says. The nurse blinks. "Inspector Ben Jäger." His voice and breathing are controlled, his insides are twisted into a knot. He turns towards the nurse: "It's taking a while," he says guardedly. "Can you tell us how long . . .?"

"I'll get Dr Ozalp." The nurse vanishes behind the door.

Dr Ozalp is Andrea's age and wears a hijab. "Good news," she says quietly; she doesn't have an accent, just like Semir. "The scan showed no serious internal injuries, and his spinal cord is all right too. But he does have a slashed thigh, two broken ribs, heavy bruising and whiplash. He's been lightly sedated. And we had to give him half a litre of blood, he'd lost quite a bit."

Andrea swallows hard. "Thank you, Doctor." Ben just nods a couple of times. Dr Ozalp looks from one to the other: "You can go in. One at a time. For five minutes each. Mrs Gerkhan first." She walks down the corridor, followed by Andrea.

Ben sits down on the bench. It's dinner time, but he's not hungry. He shrugs, decides to do something vaguely useful, gets his Smartphone out, chooses the Word option and starts tapping. Every now and then he stops, recalls something else, frowns, and keeps it out of the report.

"Early this morning the undersigned, Inspector Ben Jäger, and Inspector Semir Gerkhan were travelling along the A59, towards Leverkusen. ( _"Your turn to get breakfast. I'll have two ham rolls and a large strong coffee, thanks." "I'd make a joke about growing boys, but you've grown more than enough." "And, being a gentleman, I'll refrain from making jokes about growth to you."_). At approximately 08.45 we saw a female body being thrown out of a green van moving ahead of us at about 90 km an hour. We stopped and tried to provide assistance, but found that the woman, who was very young, was already dead."

Ben doesn't want to think about the shattered body, and walks to the window. It's getting dark. The woman in the dressing gown has gone back inside. Another ambulance stops, another stretcher is pushed into Emergency. They couldn't save the girl. They can't save everybody. He could have lost Semir today.

"We left the body with the first patrol car which reached us and set off in pursuit of the green van. ( _"They're crazy!" "Totally nuts. Hold on tight now." "That's what you say every time, Ben."_ ) We caught up with it after approximately six kilometres ( _weaving in and out of the lanes of traffic, often on the hard shoulder_ ). In order to apprehend the criminals we were forced to follow them when they smashed through the central barrier and headed back towards Cologne in the opposing carriageway. We finally blocked the van by overtaking it and swerving across its path. Unfortunately, as the van skidded sideways, its bonnet ploughed into the passenger seat of our vehicle, injuring Inspector Gerkhan, who lost consciousness on impact. The undersigned, Inspector Jäger, managed to arrest both criminals, who were also injured in the collision, _without anyone noticing that their face injuries were inconsistent with the way the collision had happened. Oh well, they did resist arrest._ Investigations on the murder of the young woman ( _Sompit. Plus a long Thai surname which I can't remember_ ) are under way."

Ben checks his watch again. Ten minutes since Andrea went in. Good, he'll try to get ten minutes too. It can't be long now.

* * * *

The door at the end of the corridor reopens and Andrea reappears, followed by another nurse. Andrea's eyes are red and her cheeks – still round, still youthfully soft, although she's a few years older than Ben – are damp.

"I'll take you in now, Inspector Jäger," the nurse says briskly. "You've got five minutes."

"Ten," Ben begs with his sweetest boyish smile.

"Seven," the nurse says, and he knows it's her last offer. Then she turns to Andrea. "Afterwards we'll find you a folding cot, Mrs Gerkhan."

Ben turns towards Andrea. "You're staying the night? Are you sure . . .?"

"I want to, and I'll be all right," she replies calmly. She's the next of kin, she's entitled to spend nights by her husband's bedside. "Aida is with my mother. You go and talk to him now." He has been given permission, and this is not the moment to dwell on how he feels about that. His steps slow and controlled, he follows the nurse through the door and down another short corridor.

The Venetian blinds have been closed, the room is dark and quiet. Semir is leaning back on two pillows, face pale, eyelids flickering, a dressing on his left cheekbone. Ben's lips quirk at the sight of his flimsy hospital gown, so different from all the layers of t-shirts and sweaters his partner usually wears under his jacket. Under the gown Ben can glimpse the broad chest wrapped in tight bandages, the strong arms, the waistline with barely a trace of middle age. And he can remember all that's hidden under the blankets – the flat belly, the hard thigh muscles, the small, firm ass. The impressive dick in its forest of reddish-brown curls.

Ben feels himself stir; he swallows, then scowls at himself. Lousy timing. Forget all that, defuse things with a joke. "Clever way of getting out of the job," he smirks. "Guess who'll have to deal with all your paperwork."

Semir opens his eyes, breathes in and looks up at him. His eyes are just a little unfocused. "Did you get them?"

"Yeah. They're both in custody. No, of course it wasn't difficult, nothing to it. And I'm very well, not even a scratch on me, just the usual seatbelt bruises, thanks for asking." He remembers his knuckles and quickly shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

Semir sighs and makes his Turkish _Oh-Almighty-give-me-strength-and-patience_ face. "Show me," he orders, and Ben shrugs and complies. Semir glances at Ben's hands and gives him his quick, wry smile. "Not bad. Have they. . ." he stops and breathes in and out, ". . . given you a new partner yet?"

Ben shakes his head. "I'm on desk work until you come back."

"One week. Two, tops." Semir stops again and catches his breath. Ben refrains from voicing any scepticism.

"Who was . . . the woman they killed?"

Trust Semir to want a full debriefing in these conditions. Ben rolls his eyes. "They haven't told us much yet. She was a Thai girl, sixteen years old. Her name was Sompit. She was smuggled into Germany and forced to work the streets. She tried to run. They caught her, beat her to death and tried to get rid of the body."

"They, who? What mafia?" Ben wouldn't put it past Semir to get out of bed and race back to the station, or at least to try and take over the investigation from his hospital bed. And sure enough, he tries to sit up, but stops at once, face twisting in pain, and falls back onto the pillows. Ben hands him a cup of water and Semir drinks it slowly, every swallow a considerable effort.

"Inspector Gerkhan," Ben says, loud and finally, "let me remind you, you're in hospital. And from hospital you're going to go home," he mentally gives himself quite a few points because his voice doesn't falter on the word, "and while you're on sick leave the Motorway Police will just about manage to survive and solve cases without you."

Semir sighs and nods. "Home. Peace and quiet. Sort of," he whispers with a smile, beginning to relax. Then he looks up at Ben, and his eyes are fully focused, warm and wistful. "Hey," he says, and tries to raise a hand, and fails. Ben makes a small interrogative noise. "Bend down," Semir orders. Ben clicks his heels and says "Yes, sir" to defuse tension, but Semir gives him a look and Ben just lowers his head. Semir manages to raise his hand and slowly brushes Ben's hair away from his forehead. "I want . . . to see your face. . . not your mane." Ben bends a little lower and their lips meet. This kiss is gentle, leisurely, so different from the hard, hit-and-run kisses they give each other in the car or at the end of a day, but soft or hard doesn't matter, this is what Ben needs, like water, like air. In spite of the fact that – whether they're working, or fighting, or interrogating suspects, or having sex – there never is one single second when Ben is not aware that Semir is spoken for, and has been since long before the two of them met, and is going to be for the rest of his life. This knowledge, and the constant fear of trespassing, are permanent residents in Ben's guts, sometimes as a dull or barely perceptible ache, sometimes as stabbing pain. Ben sighs, not wanting to, and the sigh flutters between their lips. Semir breaks the kiss, blinks and looks straight at Ben, his interrogation room look. "Something's wrong. Come on. Out with it."

"You can only have one next of kin," Ben blurts out, and immediately afterwards would like to bite his tongue because that's going too far, he's trespassed, and shadows start chasing each other in Semir's eyes. He strokes the good side of Semir's face with a fingertip, calling himself all sorts of names.

And then Semir winks, his lightning-fast wink that's so easy to miss if you don't look carefully. "They only asked for one," he says, and his lips twitch as he adds "idiot" before catching Ben's finger and giving it a brief, suggestive suck. Life's not on one single plane, Ben reflects, not for the first time; loving someone who's spoken for means constantly moving from one plane to another, from things said to things unsaid, and sometimes falling in-between.

Semir releases Ben's finger; the loss of contact is physically painful. "I was thinking . . ." Semir starts, then twitches at some sudden stab of pain and resumes speaking, slowly. "When I get better . . . maybe in two, three weeks . . . you can apply for a week's holiday . . . and you and I can go to Bavaria."

Ben's eyebrows go up. "Bavaria? You mean Munich, don't you, city boy?"

"More respect for your elders, young man." Semir tries to keep a straight face and fails. "I mean mountains, lakes. A little hiking . . . a little fishing . . . a little sailing, maybe . . . no climbing of any kind. Nothing that looks like a motorway." He stops; he's looking exhausted. Ben can only stare at him and nod a few times, grinning foolishly.

The nurse's steps are coming up to the door. Semir frowns and speaks softly, as fast as he can. "I've checked with Andrea . . . it's all right. Because when the baby comes . . . we'll have even fewer chances of . . ." The door opens. Semir coughs. Ben feels his face go slightly pink.

"You've had nearly nine minutes, Inspector Jäger." Ben runs his hand over Semir's crewcut and heads for the door. At the doorway he turns. "I'll put in the leave application tomorrow," he says quickly. "And your overdue reports as well. Just because I love you." He winks at the nurse, silently daring her to guess.

* * * *

Ben blinks at the neon light. Andrea is sitting on the padded bench, leafing through the same magazine. She looks up at Ben without speaking.

"The first thing he asked was _Did we get them?_ " Ben reports with a small shrug. "Hardheaded fool."

"Always the cop," Andrea says. They exchange a small grimace. "Dr Ozalp told me that some thigh muscles may have been damaged, he'll need to do some rehab once the stitches come out. He'll come home in ten days or so."

"And then we'll have to take turns forcing him to stay put," Ben says firmly. He and Andrea see eye to eye on this. They'll team up against Semir's stubbornness. And if the baby comes before Semir's a hundred per cent, no Bavaria. Tough, but that's life. "Thanks for letting me know all this. I'll phone Kruger and Hotte on my way home."

"And I'll phone Susanne from here," she says. Then she pauses, strokes her belly, and adds, "If everything goes well, you and Semir will have enough time to go to Bavaria. The baby's due date is almost nine weeks from now." She gives him a tiny smile: he likes looking at the small dimple in her right cheek. "Semir and I would like to go away too. Before the family gets too big to manage. But I don't think my parents could cope with Aida for four, five days."

Ben grins broadly, delighted. "I could. Easily. Take a few days off work, take her to the zoo, to the swimming pool. Show her how to shoot goals. Ask Hartmut or Susanne over and show Aida how to cheat at _skat_. Maybe teach her how to change a tire."

"Ben!" But she's laughing, her lovely alto laugh. "She's three and a half."

"OK, maybe tires and spark plugs can wait. I'll teach her how to play drums, she can't possibly be any worse than her father." The nurse is coming down the corridor, carrying a folding cot. Ben gets up and gives Andrea a soft pat on her shoulder. "See you tomorrow morning. I'll come on my way to work. Maybe I'll bring a decent breakfast – how does strong coffee and fresh _börek_ sound?"

Ben's Mercedes glides easily through the evening traffic. There is a line of cars at some traffic lights where he needs to turn left. He hears some raised voices and glances sideways. On the pavement, close to him, there is a mother laden with shopping bags and surrounded by three children squabbling about a packet of crisps and some toffee apples. The mother tries to reason with the kids, then drops her bags, cuffs all of them indiscriminately, and confiscates crisps and apples. The lights change and Ben manages to do his turn.

Next of kin, he thinks wryly, hoping that the kids will eventually get the knack of sharing without too much conflict. The ache in his guts is barely there right now. All he needs to do is get home, make himself something to eat and have an earlyish night. He'll have to get up at the crack of dawn to make it to the _börek_ place and then drive on to the hospital with breakfast.


End file.
